


I Believe

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Joy Day Fest, Rescue Missions, Team as Family, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Rodney folded once under torture, he refuses to do it again. Not when so many lives are at stake.





	I Believe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [respoftw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/gifts).



> So respoftw is really, really into the Rodney whump. And I really, really wanted to write her some for More Joy Day. But I also wanted it to be the kind of whump that comes with a strong, stubborn Rodney who's trying to do the right thing. So this happened. Happy More Joy Day, Respo!

Rodney's legs are shaking but he flatly refuses to fall down. His whole body is one big ache, though they kept away from his hands and his head; they don’t want to hinder his ability to complete the task they’ve given him. 

"I ask again. Will you fix it?" 

The village chief, or whatever he calls himself, is standing in front of the device in question. It's the reason they nabbed him, lying in wait to attack Rodney's team on an otherwise peaceful offworld mission. 

"No," Rodney says, his voice raspy. 

It's a weapon, a potentially powerful one, and the Wraith worshippers want to use it against their enemies. People like the Athosians and the kids on M7G-667. And the Atlantis expedition. There's nothing Rodney can say but no. 

"Take him to his room." 

It's a cell in all the ways that count, though at least the bed is soft. Rodney's captors shove him through the door, which slams and locks behind him, and he sags against the dresser. He doesn't need to look to know that he's one big bruise. He’s not sure how many more times he can withstand the gauntlet; it’s so much worse today than yesterday, fists and feet landing on already tender flesh. 

Rodney shuffles to the bed and collapses on it, moaning. Two days. They feed him and they gave him a room with bathroom facilities, but they won't let him go, not until he fixes their weapon. And that's something he won't do. He won't. 

_Hang in there, McKay_ , he imagines John saying. _We’re coming_. Rodney knows his team is looking for him. It's what they do. Even if they were injured when the Wraith worshippers took him – and he has no way of knowing if they were – Rodney knows that won't slow John down. No man left behind, that's his thing, and it’s all Rodney has to hold on to.

*o*o*o* 

The next morning they rouse him early, feed him breakfast, and then it's back to the main square.

"Will you fix it?" 

"No." He's trying to be as tight-lipped as John, who never gives anything away. 

Rodney has been mentally preparing himself for another go-round with the gauntlet of angry villagers, but they've changed it up today. A young woman is brought into the square, struggling against the men who have hold of her arms, and Rodney suddenly finds it hard to breath. They can't. 

"If you do not fix it," the chief says. "This woman will suffer." 

Fuck. What would John do? Or Ronon? Rodney tries to think through every scenario, his brain fairly buzzing with the effort, but his conclusions still come out the same. One woman against a galaxy of innocent people. One woman who is mostly likely a Wraith worshipper herself. 

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, as Spock said. Rodney doesn't know anything about this woman, but he knows she's not worth sacrificing an entire galaxy. 

He won't. 

He presses his lips together to keep from nervously babbling and shakes his head, and the chief merely nods at his continued defiance. 

It takes three hours for the woman to die, and Rodney is forced to watch until the end. Forced to see her eyes dim and the last bloody bubble of breath escape her mouth. He has nothing left in his stomach by then but still heaves, his gut a hot, twisted, aching thing. 

They lock him in his room for the remainder of the day, and Rodney thinks he may never stop hearing that woman's screams or stop tasting the phantom metallic tang of her blood in the back of his throat. He muffles his cries in his pillow, body wracked with guilt and fear and pain.

*o*o*o* 

The ground in the square is discolored and Rodney can't stop looking at it. They didn't even try to clean it up.

"Will you fix it?" 

"No." 

Rodney is terrified he'll have to watch someone else die, slowly and painfully and begging for their life, but no. Today they strip off his shirt, tie him to a post, and flog him. 

Nothing in his life could have prepared him for that moment, for the repeated blows and the burning pain and the blood-thirsty crowd cheering for every strike. He bites his lip bloody in an attempt not to scream, or babble out all the secrets he knows just to get them to stop. In the beginning he can feel each individual blow, but by the time it's over all he feels is the pain, bigger than anything he’s ever known, and the sensation of blood dripping down his back and into his pants. 

When they untie him, Rodney falls to his hands and knees and vomits up his breakfast. He’s disoriented as they drag him back to his room and clean him up, the application of cream to his back an agony in and of itself. He spends the rest of the day lying on his stomach, shaking, counting his breaths. 

He wants to be alive when John rescues him, but he's not sure he's going to make it.

*o*o*o* 

The chief gives Rodney an extra recovery day. They feed him, tend to his back, and promise him that all of this can stop if he merely fixes the device. Then they will let him return home. But Rodney knows better. They'll keep him or kill him, to prevent word of the weapon from getting back to Atlantis.

Rodney had folded once, had nearly lost Atlantis and John because Kolya had tortured the truth out of him. But he's done being weak. Done being the one everyone else has to protect. Maybe he's been spending too much time with John, but Rodney isn't going to be the reason that innocent people – _his_ people – die. 

When they bring him back to the square, still shirtless because even the movement of air against his back stings, Rodney holds his head high despite the frantic pounding of his heart. 

"Will you fix it?" 

"No." His voice trembles. 

The chief nods solemnly. "You are strong of conviction, which is honorable. Therefore we will give you an honorable death." 

Rodney is forced to his knees, and a man approaches with the kind of oversized, deadly-looking knife Ronon would probably get a hard-on for. They mean to chop off his head, and Rodney can't catch his breath. He thinks of everything he's leaving behind, his friends and colleagues and Atlantis and John, John, John. But he never doubts that he's doing the right thing, no matter how terrified he is. 

"You may have a moment, if you wish to pray to your god." 

Rodney closes his eyes. He doesn't believe in God. Hasn't since he was a young child. But then he feels it, the familiar hum in the back of his mind, and all his fears fall away. He opens his eyes and looks right at the chief. 

"I don't. But you might want to pray to yours." 

The executioner raises the knife over his head, and chaos rains down from the sky as two 'jumpers uncloak and Marines start firing at the assembled crowd. A drone is released, and takes out the device in spectacular fashion, and Rodney watches it all still down on his knees, hands braced on his thighs as he laughs and cries and laughs some more. 

He doesn't believe in God. But he does believe in John Sheppard.

*o*o*o* 

"You should've given them what they wanted," John scolds anxiously in the back of the 'jumper. He's given Rodney some basic pain killers from the med kit and radioed back to Atlantis for Carson to be ready with a gurney.

Rodney shakes his head. "Couldn't risk it. I didn't know when you'd get here." It’s surreal, being there with his team. He really thought he was going to die. "I did the right thing. Right?" 

"You did good," Ronon says. He's the one who blasted the chief, a ferocious look on his face when he pulled the trigger. Rodney suspected that wasn't all on his own behalf, but he didn't mind. 

"We did not give up hope of finding you," Teyla says. She's holding one of Rodney's hands. 

"I know." And he does know. Rodney hasn't had people to count on for most of his life. Not his parents, not his superiors, not his back-biting colleagues. But in Atlantis he's found a real family for the first time in his life. Respect, friendship, love...things he never thought he'd have. He was right to put his faith in his team. 

"You’ll be okay," John says, pressing a kiss to the side of Rodney’s head. They’re holding hands too, and Rodney can feel the tremors running through him. He knows how John feels, has been on the other side of this more times that he cares to count. 

“We are all here for you,” Teyla says. 

She’s completely sincere, her eyes full of sympathy but not pity, and Rodney is mortified when he realizes his breath his hitching in his throat. He’s going to cry in front of his friends. 

And then they move, closing ranks around him and blocking him from the view of the cockpit. They surround him, support him, love him, and Rodney would go through that whole horrible experience all over again if it means protecting these people. 

“Will you let us help you?” Teyla asks softly. 

“Yes,” Rodney replies, and quietly falls apart. 

He knows his family will help put him back together again.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** This fic was built around the idea that Rodney didn't believe in God, but he did believe in John. I wasn't sure how I was going to explore that until I got the notice for More Joy Day and thought I could add all the whump for Respo. Not much joy for poor Rodney, though. ::grins::
> 
> Special thanks to nagi_schwarz for the beta on this!


End file.
